


Gifts That Keep On Giving

by sweetestpiglet



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:28:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetestpiglet/pseuds/sweetestpiglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...Don’t worry, it’s early, no one is going to look like a GQ cover,” he assured her.  “If I’m not back by dinner, text me dirty photos and remind me who is waiting at home for me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gifts That Keep On Giving

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Darcy Lewis Prompt Week, #1: Lipstick

It was 3am on the morning after Clint’s birthday when he discovered the other part of Darcy’s gift to him.

“Clint,” his phone blared in Tony’s cooing- cooing! - voice. “I need you. Steve needs you. Thor needs you. Bruce needs you. Natasha doesn’t need you, but she says she’ll hunt you down and give you a repeat performance of Budapest if you don’t pick up the phone right-”

“What the fuck did you do to my phone?” Clint snapped into the phone.

“Darcy asked me for the soundbite. She said that sometimes you can sleep through the normal alarms, and needed ‘nightmare fodder’ to wake you up. Her words, clearly, not mine. Anyway. Doom decided to celebrate your birthday with robots in the harbor,” Stark told him. “Steve says wheels up in 15,” and then- nothing.

He stared at the phone. “Fuck.”

Darcy rolled over to look at him. “Mkay,” she mumbled, still half-asleep. “But it’s your turn to work this time. I think I’ve done enough.”

Clint laughed. “Not exactly what I mean, unfortunately. It’s time for your man to go save the world.” He rolled out of bed and scrounged for clothes.

“Don’t you have any personal days or something you can take?” Darcy complained half-heartedly. “I mean, it’s your birthday.”

“Yesterday was my birthday,” he corrected her, fastening his pants. “And you wouldn’t love me if I were the type to bail when my team is battling robots in New York Harbor.”

She sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

“That’s what I thought.” Clint pulled on the white shirt he wore yesterday and finished unwrapping the “celebratory rope” (Darcy likes naming things) from his wrists, rubbing away any residual redness. “Thanks for the birthday gift, babe,” he said, bending down for a good-bye kiss. “I promise to reciprocate, and then some, when yours rolls around.”

“I will hold you to that,” she said, pouting her lips at him as he straightened up. “Um, Clint- maybe you want to put on a different shirt before you get to the jet?”

“Nah,” he said, lacing up his boots. “Everyone’s got spare clothes on board, I’ll change into mission gear there.”

“No, I’m serious,” she told him, sitting up. “Another shirt would definitely-”

“Make me get there later than I already will? Yes, I agree. Don’t worry, it’s early, no one is going to look like a GQ cover,” he assured her. “If I’m not back by dinner, text me dirty photos and remind me who is waiting at home for me?”

Darcy smiled, giving up the fight to make him change. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see what I can do. Now, don’t you have a world to save?”

With a wink and an exaggerated blown-kiss, he left. _Off to the ridicule of everyone who looks at him,_ she thought. _Next time, he’ll listen to me._

 

Clint was met with a lot of raised eyebrows on his way to the jet, but none of the people attached to said-eyebrows were willing to stop an Avenger when the emergency signal had been given. It was only when he was onboard and they were lifting off that anyone spoke to him.

Well, Steve spoke. But only after Tony and Thor laughed, Natasha raised an eyebrow and made her little I’m-not-making-any-expression face, and Bruce sighed and checked his seatbelt.

“What’s so funny?” Clint asked, bewildered.

Steve moved a little closer, trying to keep the others out of his attempt at leadership. “Clint, maybe you should change into your uniform now. Or at least a new shirt?”

Clint frowned. “Am I being set up for ‘What Not to Wear’?” he asked. “Why are my sartorial choices being questioned, all of a sudden?”

“Oh, please let me!” Tony begged. “Please, I know it’s Bruce’s turn, but please let me do it this once!”

Bruce smirked. “No, Tony. You don’t get to tell him. It’s my turn, and I choose silence.”

While Tony started in on how stupid it was to choose silence over “telling, for Thor’s sake, man- can you imagine what his face will look like? Think of it as an experiment!”, Steve just gave Clint a Look and said, “Please, just go change.”

Clint rolled his eyes and stomped (petulantly, certain Russian assassins would later describe) to the lockers. He grabbed a black undershirt, took a quick look in the full-length mirror Tony had installed (you can’t even see him when he’s in the suit, why does he need a mirror?) and swore violently.

There, plainly visible under the white cotton of Clint’s shirt, was a path of red lipstick marks, the first up near his clavicle and the last (visible) just above his belt buckle. _Looks like I don’t need texts from Darcy, after all._


End file.
